The Way I Feel
by Vinagrette
Summary: Draco makes a startling confession to Harry, who doesn't know how to react.


"I love you Harry."

Immediately my jaw drops.  I turn, my hand still on the doorknob, and stare at him, hardly able to take in the fact his eyes are pleading with me.

We had agreed this was to be our last time together.  We agreed it was too risky to continue like this.  It had been difficult coming to that conclusion – but we finally did, deciding it was just lust between us.  Lust that could be satisfied elsewhere.  At least, that's what I had thought.

I was about to leave.  About to walk out the door for the last time, convinced it was the right thing to do.  I was prepared to go back to rude comments and nasty glares in the hallway.  Ready for rivalry on the quidditch field and getting one another into detention.  Then…then he says this.  He says he loves me.

I don't move.  I don't breathe.  A thousand thoughts spin through my mind as we stand there, staring at one another, at the most important point I our relationship (if one could go so far as to call it that) and we're in silence.

Taking a deep breath, I stare down at the floor.  It's covered in dust save for a clean area where he and I had sat together just moments before.  I knit my brows as I try to figure out what to say, sort out the emotions that I'm feeling.  Almost from a reflex I want to run to him, hold him, say, "I love you, too" and have things be perfect.  I've waited so long to hear somebody tell me that.  So long to be loved by somebody and now that it's here, I don't know what to say.

My mind reels and I think back…

My earliest memory; Sitting in the corner of the Dursley's kitchen.  It must have been Dudley's birthday, as I'm tucked away behind a pile of presents – hardly noticeable to any one.  He's eating cake and opening his packages one by one.  I sit, bored and slightly hungry.  I want to open a present, too.  I reach out in front of them to grab the nearest box.

Before I can reach it, there's a sharp slap on my small wrists.  Immediately I pull back, tucking my hands to my chest as I look up into the face of my uncle – glaring at me.  He shouts.  He uses words I don't understand.  The pain on my wrists lingers and I look away from the presents.  Confused.

Older.  Another birthday.  Dudley's outside with Piers, riding his new bike up and down the street – showing off to the neighbors as Aunt Petunia had instructed.  I'm in the living room, wrapping paper in my hands.  I'm in the middle of cleaning up after the party.  I stop to look out the window and I see him, looking so pleased with himself.  He looks like he's having a good time.  It really is a nice day today.  I wish I were outside, too.  On a new bike, riding with a friend.   Jealous.

Weeks later, I come out of the cupboard one morning, bracing myself for a comment about the state of my hair, which had been cut the night before but grew back long as ever.  I spot a note on the floor in front of me and I pick it up.  It reads:

                                    Day trip to London.  Be back tonight.  

                                    Clean dishes and windows. 

                        DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING ELSE OR YOU WILL BE SORRY.

With a shrug I head into the kitchen, straight for the dishes.  Indifferent.

The morning after I am told I'm a wizard.  Hagrid is taking me away from the house on the rock and I'm seething inside.  We sit in the boat and head off.  Hagrid reads the Daily Prophet and I sit, thinking.  A car crash they had told me.  They lied.  They lied to be about my parents.  My dead parents.  For 11 years they lied.  If it weren't for Hagrid they'd still be lying.   Hate.

On the way to Hogwarts.  Draco's hand is out in front of me.  He's offering me what I'm sure he thinks is friendship.  I feel Ron tense beside me as I stare at the boy in front of me.  Finally, I speak, "I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks."  Draco glares.   Cautious.

My parents.  I hardly believe it, but there they are…staring back at me.  They smile and wave, never taking their eyes off of me.  It feels so right here.  True, I'm alone in the room but I'm with bthem/b, that's what matters.  I'm with my parents. For the first time ever in my life, I'm with my mum and dad.

I touch the glass and imagine I'm touching them.  My dad's hair is coarse like mine, and his robes are soft velvet.  My mum's cheeks are warm and smooth – she smells like flowers.

What if I could stay here forever?  …Would they eventually tire of me and leave?  Would they stay, too, get older and die again?  If I get up, when I go back to class, will they be here when I get back?  I don't want to be alone again…   Scared.

Going back home.  No, not home.  The Dursley's.  I flip through the pictures Hagrid gave me.  My family smiles up at me.  They look happy to see me.  At least, that's why I imagine they're so happy.  

I wish they weren't pictures.  I wish they were real.   Longing.

Second year.  They don't really think I'm heir of Slytherin, do they?  I ask myself this question over and over again.  Simply because I speak Parseltongue and happened to turn up in the wrong place and the wrong time this is what they think of me.  They whisper about me behind my back, they move away from me when I come toward them.  They stare at me when they think I don't see them.

I do see them.  I hear them.  Hermione would've told me to keep ignoring them.  But she's gone now, too.  I can't ignore them on my own.  

Fred and George think it's funny.  I guess in some ways it is…if I could get over the fact everybody is talking about me more than usual and that they all think I'm something really awful.  Something I'm not.   Different.

Next year.  Dark.  I'm alone in the dark.  But I hear something.  It's far away at first and I can't make it out.  It's high-pitched, continuous.  Closer now.  A voice.  It's a voice…screaming.  A woman.  She's scared.  'No!' she screams.  'Not Harry!'

…Mum.  It's my mum.  She's screaming – clearly now.  Crying, begging, and pleading…for my life.  I try to find her, try to see anything I can, but it's all dark.  I try to cry out to her let her know I'm there, but I can't even hear my own voice over her screaming.

I wake up.  Lupin is above me – I wonder briefly who he is before he's shoving chocolate at me.  Hermione and Ron are staring at me.  The train cabin is silent, but her screams echo in my head.   Empty.

Later that year.  We had won.  Nobody could believe it – but we had won.  I'm on my teammate's shoulders, listening to the cheers of the crowd.  The Quidditch Cup is ours.  bGryffindor's/b.  And I'm part of the reason why.   Elated.

The night I meet Sirius.  I stand in the Shrieking Shack trying to take it all in.  Peter betrayed my parents?  He gained their trust.  He promised them his loyalty and now what?  Here he is.  He's alive.  He's alive and they're…well.

He begs for my forgiveness, grovels on his knees.  I briefly wonder what he was like 13 years before.  Not like this…not this sorry excuse for a wreck of a man.  They didn't deserve what he gave them.  He speaks to me but I don't listen, I can only think about my parents.   Disgusted.

Leaving the Shrieking Shack.  A godfather?  Me?  We're walking beside one another in the tunnel, Snape floating about in front of us.  Sirius tells me he's my godfather.  He's reluctant to say.  Reluctant to ask me to come live with him.  As if I would say no.  I can barely keep from screaming with joy.  To…to leave the Dursley's, to have someone to talk to over the summer…some one who knew my parents and wouldn't lie about it.  And he's asking me to come live with him!  Why on earth wouldn't I?   Wanted.

Last year.  Out of all the people…Ron didn't believe me.  I didn't put my name in that goblet.  How bcould/b I?  Can't he see it doesn't make any sense?  I look at him from across the common room.  He's playing Exploding Snap with Dean and Seamus…I'd like to play.

Instead I work on Potions with Hermione.  She tries to excuse his behavior – but I don't listen.  Best friends should believe each other no matter what.  At least…that's always what I had thought.  Admittedly I don't have much experience with best friends.  I really wish he'd listen to me.   Betrayed.

The end of the Tri-Wizard tournament.  I wake up on the grass, my knuckles frozen with a grip on Cedric's shirt.  I'm covered in dirt and blood but I don't care, I have to tell them, I have to explain what I saw.  Voldemort.  I saw Voldemort.  He's back and he killed Cedric.    Horror.

Earlier this year.  In this room.  I'd just been pulled in and thrown against the wall.  Before I could fight back against whom I think is an attacker, I felt his lips on mine.  I froze.  He was trembling against me.  The first time I was ever aware of Draco Malfoy being nervous.  At first I wanted to push him off me…but I find I can't.  Then I realize it's because I don't want to.

My hands are over him before I can even comprehend what I'm doing.  In the back of my mind there's a voice telling me it's wrong, but the rest of me disagrees.  The rest of me knows that it's right, knows that it's what I've wanted all this time.

My first kiss in all actuality.  I'm sure he doesn't know…I hope that he can't tell by the way I'm fumbling while trying to undo his tie.  

We've not said a word to one another yet – not being able to as we don't separate our lips unless it's for a gasp of air – but it's obvious we're both heading for the same thing.   Desperate.

And here we are.  Months later.  I'm still staring at the ground and when I finally snap out of it and look up, I see he's still staring at me.  His eyes are red.  I briefly wonder how long I've been in thought.

He loves me.

I try desperately to grasp the implications of what he's just confessed to me.  Love.  

I keep my hand on the doorknob; the only thing I can hear is the beating of my own heart.  Again I want to run to him, to embrace him, to confess my love to him.  But if I did that…then I'd be lying.  How can I love anybody…when I don't even know what love is?

"Don't," I tell him.  Then I step out the door.


End file.
